The recent film of the Odyssey directed by Christopher Nolan has put a spotlight on the works of the Greek poet, Homer. His Iliad and Odyssey are books that I read as a child (in translation!), and I’ve always thought of Odysseus as the great trickster of mythology, lying and dodging his way through life in his quest to return home to his beloved wife and son. It’s long been an ambition of mine to walk in his footsteps. At last, that dream has come true.
Our lovely taxi driver brought us first (after the monastery that Fraser wrote about) to the village of Stavros where there is a model on display that supposedly shows what the palace would have looked like in the time of Odysseus (I should add that there is some controversy over the actual island that belonged to Odysseus, especially amongst archaeologists). I could imagine Penelope, Odysseus’ wife, weaving a funeral shroud each day and unpicking the weave each night so she didn’t have to choose a suitor from the drunken gamblers pressing her for her hand in marriage. I can also imagine Telemachus, son of Odysseus, stalking the walls in frustration, helpless to protect his poor mother from the importunities forced on her until the goddess Athena steps in and helps him.
We enjoyed clambering around the archaeological site, almost falling into abandoned test pits. Our good friends, Frank and Lyn, scrambled around with us, and I tried to remember fragments of the stories I’d grown up with to tell them what had happened there. Just like when we visited the Temple of Apollo and Oracle at Delphi, this was a dream come true for me, and I loved every moment. Once we had explored everything, our taxi driver took us to the tiny museum above Stavros, where we saw the pottery shard with the name of Odysseus carved on it, linking the area with the (fictional?) hero.
The following day, our friends headed off in their boat, Hamble Dawn III, but we stayed on to do a bit of exploring of the island by bike. We had read about the Cave of the Nymphs, supposedly the place where Odysseus, guided by the goddess Athena, hid the treasures he’d been given by the Phaeacians. We reached a junction in the road, but the sign for the cave said it was closed. What a quandary. Continue on the long, steep climb on the off-chance, or give up and go back to the boat?
Well of course we didn’t give up. Easy for me, on my electric-assisted bike (although my legs were still like jelly by the time I reached the top), but far more challenging for Fraser! We managed it, though, and were rewarded by magnificent views of the bay far below.
When we reached the place marked on the maps to show where the trail began, we locked our bikes to the tourist sign and set off on foot up the paved path to the cave, highly excited but not expecting to be able to access it.
The gate was closed, and a padlock and chain made the whole thing look pretty inaccessible. What a downer! But then we realised that the chain was all for show, and the gate still opened!
This cave did not disappoint us. The initial chamber was easy enough to access, with a bit of care, but previous excavations have left the lower part quite dangerous. So Fraser, naturally, decided to descend into the realm of the gods.
I decided to stay in the higher level, just in case someone needed to go for help, and definitely not because I was too scared to climb down the treacherous rock into darkness. Besides, Fraser had the only head torch…
Luckily, Fraser survived his descent into the realm of the goddess, but we both worried in case he’d upset Athena by treading on her territory without permission. As it turns out, we were right to worry. We went on a walk, the following day, to explore a swimming beach we’d discovered around the far side of the bay. This was one of the best swims we’ve had this year, with shoals of fish, a huge and entirely unafraid flatfish, and a big octopus who seemed happy to let us watch her from above as she moved around the seabed and hunted molluscs. We also discovered a pair of canons, mounted high above the bay.
Our last night in Vathy was supposed to be peaceful with no wind due and fine weather forecast. We had our showers, then returned to the boat to wait until it was a respectable time to eat dinner. That was when we realised Athena might have other plans for us. The wind began to rise well above the forecasted speeds (up to 12 knots forecast). We decided to add an extra line to shore to help keep Barberry safe, as by then we were the only boat on that stretch of quay and the wind was hitting us side-on. Fraser made it ashore with a long line, but before he could secure it, all hell was let loose. One of our four lines ashore snapped, allowing the boat to be thrown against the concrete quay.
Suddenly we were in danger of losing the boat as the corner of the transom was being smashed against the concrete, and the rudder grounded on the rocks under water in the troughs of the waves. I saw our wind speed indicator climb through the 40s and reach 50 knots plus as the boat was laid over on her side. Fraser scrambled aboard and we started the engine, using full throttle to try to get her off the wall. No joy. The wind was too strong. Fraser risked life and limb going forward to try to use the anchor windlass to help the engine, but the forces were so great, even with full throttle, that the windlass motor tripped. We managed to release all but one of the lines tying us to the shore, but the last one was jammed on the bollard ashore, so Fraser passed me the sharp knife we keep handy so I could cut it. Just then a massive wave lifted the stern and the rope came free, so I pulled it in (abandoning all the other lines ashore) and went back to the helm. maybe that was how I injured myself.
Finally, during a lull in the wind, the propellor drove us free from the concrete wall and Barberry surged forward, but with no windlass we were still at the mercy of the gale. Fraser disappeared below into the cabin in search of the trip switches (there are two for the windlass) and managed to reset it, so at last we were able to lift the anchor and motor (still pretty much at full throttle, and barely making headway) into a more sheltered area. The wind was still so strong that steering was almost impossible, and I was convinced we’d lost most of our rudder to the rocks when she’d grounded, but then the wind died as quickly as it came, leaving us with thunder, lightning and torrential rain instead.
Even the sea state settled quickly, leaving us wondering if we’d imagined the whole thing — except for the snapped line and the damage to Barberry’s transom. I decided to dive down to check the rudder and hull for damage, but Fraser over-ruled me as he is the stronger swimmer, and as he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him, he sinks more efficiently than me so it’s easier for him to dive deep enough for a full inspection.
Amazingly, the rudder was intact, as was the keel (although there’s a line of mud where we grounded in Nidri: see a previous blog). The only damage, apart from to our nerves, was to the teak rubbing strake and to the corner of the transom, where the gelcoat has been damaged by the quayside. Hopefully Fraser will be able to repair both of these once the boat is out of the water.
After this, we free-anchored for the night, and decided that a meal ashore was too much for our mental health, although we were still in our going-out clothes (pretty bedraggled by then!). After rowing the dinghy ashore to retrieve our abandoned lines, Fraser heated us some tinned Greek giant beans and tinned Greek meatballs. Neither of us had much appetite for some reason…
We weren’t the only boat in trouble in that unexpected blow: several anchored yachts dragged their anchor and were to be seen circling the bay until the wind eased, and our nearest neighbours, a lovely Canadian/Finnish couple, were in their cockpit in full wet weather gear, running the engine in gear to prevent their own anchor dragging. These two are very experienced sailors, on the return leg of a round-the-world voyage that began on the west coast of America. Once the wind eased, several yachts tied up on the quay side-to (which is either very canny or very crazy, I can’t decide which).
We left Vathy early the next morning with a silent vow never to return, and definitely never to irritate a goddess again.